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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598790">I'm a deceased playing victim (Slip the face, slip the victory)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiromachia/pseuds/spiromachia'>spiromachia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP AUs and Cannon Divergence [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Dadza, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, No respawns, Permanent Character Death, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Misses Toby Smith | Tubbo, TommyInnit Swears (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Technoblade, Villain Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:40:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiromachia/pseuds/spiromachia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS FOR THE 16TH NOVEMBER WAR</p><p>"HE'S FUCKING DEAD!!" he cried at the top of his lungs, releasing his anguish and his pain as a seemingly infinite amount more tears poured down his cheeks, saying it out loud making it so much more real, smudging the dirt that painted his face, "HE'S FUCKING DEAD AND THEY KILLED HIM!!"</p><p>Or</p><p>After the Wilbur successfully blows up L'manberg and Techno commits mass destruction, Tommy has had enough. Through the tears and the pain, he finally cuts himself off from the ones who had taken everything from him.<br/>(Title from Saline Solution by Wilbur Soot)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), because ew - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP AUs and Cannon Divergence [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Completed fics I read, Completed stories I've read</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. November 16th</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The smell of debris swept through the air, filling his lungs and half choking him. A great plume of smoke rose from the remains, painting the sky in a dismal grey, raining fiery ashes upon what was once L'manberg. Buildings had been flattened into rubble, fires raged under broken dunk machines and election podiums, flickering and lashing out into the surrounding air.</p><p>He held a body in his arms, a sense of intense deja vu washing over him, closing his throat and pulling guttural sobs from his mouth, with an all too familiar wound right on their chest. The damage caused by the fireworks was extensive, far worse than the previous time, because this time, all of the power was purposefully aimed towards his ribs, aiming to maim, aiming to kill. He remembered desperately holding his friend's guts inside his stomach after the explosives had all but torn through.</p><p>Tommy tenderly brushed the brown hairs from Tubbo's unseeing eyes, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw felt like it was on fire. His entire body felt like it was on fire, scorch marks and burn wounds littered across his body but he couldn't care less about them. He only cared for the broken body he held in his arms. In the distance, he could here yelling, people ordering for rescues and medics to deal with the wounded. He could hear people laughing, singing celebrations of victory from the other side of the crater they created.</p><p>He heard footsteps.</p><p>The boy didn't even look up before tugging the body tighter to his chest, felling the tears flow from his eyes as he scrunched them up. The footsteps faltered, a hesitant voice speaking up.</p><p>"Tommy?"</p><p>He recognised the voice, kind and reassuring and it was <em>safe</em>. It reminded him of home, of reassurance, of steaming cups of tea on stormy nights and banter and warmth, but the voice also reminded him of<em> them</em>. The ones who he thought he could trust before snatching that trust away, leading him on, making him believe they were on the same side. Made him think they cared about him only to destroy all that he bled to create.</p><p>"Tommy? Tubbo?"</p><p>"Get away from me," he growled, sounding more feral than he ever did, in an animalistic snarl, "Stay the fuck away from me. I wont let you touch him."</p><p>A figure was crouched in front of him, but he couldn't make them out through the blur of his tears.</p><p>"Tommy, we can't help Tubbo if you don't let us near-"</p><p>"I SAID DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!!" he screamed, his voice shattering through the remains of what was once his home, his land, his family. Gone. Turned to dust by one man's greed and another man's bloodlust.</p><p>"He's injured, Tommy. We can help him-"</p><p>"No you can't!"</p><p>"Tommy-"</p><p>"HE'S FUCKING DEAD!!" he cried at the top of his lungs, releasing his anguish and his pain as a seemingly infinite amount more tears poured down his cheeks, saying it out loud making it so much more real, smudging the dirt that painted his face, "HE'S FUCKING DEAD AND THEY KILLED HIM!!"</p><p>He heard a sharp intake of breath from in front of him, but he didn't bother to look up as he buried his face into his friend's neck, sobbing violently. He didn't notice how the valley seemed to quieten, how the chants of victory halted and eyes began to trail on him. He didn't care.</p><p>He couldn't give less of a shit.</p><p>The figure gave him space, not trying to touch him again, but still remaining close by, "Tommy... mate... you're head's bleeding."</p><p>"I don't care."</p><p>"You probably have a concussion."</p><p>"I don't care."</p><p>"You need to get that sorted."</p><p>"I don't care."</p><p>Tommy was just so fucking tired. Not a tired that could be fixed with several long nights of cosy sleep but a bone deep tired, where his grief became a core to his very being, the only thing dragging him along was the fact that he wasn't dead yet.</p><p>The figure was about to speak again, but Tommy stood up, slowly but surely, his entire body screaming in protest at the movement. His joints felt like they were going to snap, his head was being pounded at with several meat hammers and his hands were trembling so badly that he could hardly get a steady grasp on the floor to lift himself to his feet. He ignored the sickness that suddenly manifested in his gut and wiped his eyes with a shaking fist. Slowly, he lifted his head.</p><p>The people on the other side of the crater were a blur of different colours that Tommy had neither the time nor energy to pick out. At first, he couldn't speak. He could hardly breathe, the lump in his throat closing any attempt he made to make any sound at all. The reality was setting in.</p><p>Tubbo was dead.</p><p>"He's dead. He's dead and you killed him," he didn't know who he was directing his anger upon, his rage and his hate and his guilt, "He's dead."</p><p>The world echoed in silence, the only noise being the sound of gushing water and wind racing through the now destroyed town, whipping at his hair and causing the shake of his hands to worsen in the frozen, morning temperatures.</p><p>"HE'S DEAD!!" he screamed, feeling his face crumple into pure pain and loss. He could almost feel the tension that the opposing men radiated, "HE'S DEAD AND I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!! TECHNOBLADE!!"</p><p>The man's attention was immediately on the boy across the crater.</p><p>"You blew him up <em>again</em>, after all the progress we'd made to overcome his fear of you, you do it a-fucking-gain. In the exact same place with the exact same weapon. Are you proud?! Get everything you'd ever wanted?! But it's fine, I guess, cause<em> 'he'll always just forgive me and move on from his intense trauma'</em>, well guess what, Blade?! No more second chances now! No more redemption, cause he's fucking DEAD!"</p><p>No one said a word, waiting with baited breaths. Distantly, he could hear sobbing.</p><p>"And Wilbur, are you happier?" his voice softened, "Is this everything you wished for? To destroy what we spent years building and growing? The land you founded? Do you believe that you are so fucking self important that you get to decide the fate of the rest of this fucking country?! Who- who do you THINK YOU ARE?!"</p><p>It was at the end of the sentence that his voice cracked, throat raw from screaming and crying and <em>God it hurt</em>- but he didn't give a flying fuck. All of his energy was spent. He was done. Done with the war. Done with the pain. Done with the guilt and the shame and the grief and the grief and the grief-</p><p>"I hope it was worth it," his eyes were dull, what was once a vibrant blue was now a dull grey, void of any emotion. Completely empty, "I hope you burn in Hell... don't ever try to speak to me again. As far as the world is concerned, I don't know you. I guess I never did."</p><p>Tommy was a man of loud words. Big loud, obnoxious words, usually of vulgar meaning, always talking big. When he got angry, he got verbal, yelling and shouting until he released that pent up anger. Never once in his life had he spoken with such cold, compassionless abandon. The words were final. The boundaries set. There was nothing more to do here than count the dead.</p><p>Tommy stayed long enough to watch the funeral, a bandage wrapped around his head and eyes never meeting those around him. He never heard their condolences or half baked apologies, only focussing on the grave he knelt in front of, ignoring the grass stains on his jeans. The others were planning a way to fight back, to take back their land and their country but Tommy was done. He was done fighting.</p><p>What was there left to fight for anyways?</p><p>Phil tried to talk to him, to cheer him up, to get him to stay, but he could tell by the look in Tommy's eyes that the decision was made. He didn't go to stop his youngest son as he fled the makeshift medical camp the survivors had set up, with only a cloak and a netherite sword to his name. But he made a promise to himself, a promise that he intended to keep for the rest of his days.</p><p>He wouldn't let his sons get away with this.</p><p>There would be hell to pay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Anarchy (Are you happy now?)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Techno hadn't known about Wilbur's plan to blow up Manberg, but oh boy, he wasn't complaining.</p><p>Chaos erupted around him, screams and cries echoing through the land when more buildings continued to crumble as their foundations were blown sky high. Some people were already running to get stretchers, crying out for healing potions and it was, all around, a really good time. It had been a while since Techno had felt some good old fashion adrenalin pumping through his veins, but today, he'd never felt more alive, the thrill of the watching the world crumble bringing a mad grin to his face, the largest and widest smile he'd worn since he and Philza took over the world on another server entirely.</p><p>Around him, he could hear cheering. Dream pumped his fist in victory, shouting, "CHAOS WINS!!" and Technoblade had to agree with him. He'd won and dear god did it feel good. Wilbur was stood off to the side, admiring his great masterpiece with a sly grin, muttering something about a forever unfinished symphony.</p><p>"I didn't think you'd actually do it, you mad lad," Techno huffed out a laugh, elbowing his brother slightly.</p><p>"It was never meant to be," the brunet smiled, "Have you ever heard of Chekov's gun?"</p><p>"Indeed I have. We do have a show to put on, after all."</p><p>"Do you still have the Withers?" Wilbur asked with a grin, the urge to commit anarchy burning in his eyes. Techno nodded.</p><p>"Yeah. Got six wither skulls. This is gonna be a party."</p><p>Next to them, a firework exploded.</p><p>"When are you gonna summon them?"</p><p>"When Tommy reappears. I've got something I'd like him to hear."</p><p>Suddenly, a cry ripped through the country, louder than the others, filled with such horrific anguish and hatred that Technoblade's spine shook. He'd heard people cry out in grief before, mourning the loss of a loved one, but this voice was familiar, and caused a pit to form in his stomach.</p><p>"HE'S FUCKING DEAD!!"</p><p>Techno's head snapped to the side, where he saw a figure, hunched over on the ground, cradling a small, child sized body in his arms. Next to them was Philza, who placed his hand over his mouth in shock, horror seeping into his features.</p><p>"HE'S FUCKING DEAD AND THEY KILLED HIM!!"</p><p>He recognised the voice now, and it was at that moment that he realised that he wished he didn't.</p><p>Tommy.</p><p>Tommy was the one crying out in hatred and loss, and as the man looked closer, he could see an endless stream on tears pouring down his face, netherite armour glistening with blood and gore and enchantments. The boy buried his face into the crook of the body's neck and Techno felt everything slow to a halt. Tubbo's entire stomach was exposed, the edges of the wound cauterized by firework explosions, his eyes looking on without seeing, one of his eyes a pale grey instead of the blue they used to be.</p><p>Tubbo was dead.</p><p>Beside him, Dream had stopped celebrating, instead coming over to see what the fuss was about before freezing up, and Techno couldn't blame him. Wilbur's eyes were wide, never leaving the sight of his little brother, cradling his best-friend.</p><p>Phil knelt down in front of him, talking in a hushed tone, across the crater, but Tommy was obviously not responding well, the blood gushing from his head indicating a concussion.</p><p>"He... what?" Wilbur shook his head, eyes wide in disbelief, "No, he's lying. There's no way that he- that he-"</p><p>"Tubbo?" Techno didn't recognise the man who whimpered the boy's name, wearing a creeper mask on his face, "He can't be... I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming."</p><p>They weren't dreaming.</p><p>His attention was brought back to Tommy, who removed Tubbo's head from his lap and stood slowly, despite Philza's protests, nearly falling over multiple times. Distantly, Techno noticed how Tommy's chest was bleeding from shrapnel wounds, but the boy didn't even seem to notice as he shakily dragged himself to his feet. Once he was upright, he took two shaky steps towards the crater, swaying like a drunk man.</p><p>"He's dead. He's dead and you killed him. He's dead."</p><p>No one said a word, the monologue Techno had been planning was long lost to the wind, as he stared at the boy with an emotion swelling in his stomach.</p><p>"HE'S DEAD!!" the boy screamed, causing some people to flinch, including Wilbur and Dream. They were used to Tommy shouting. He did it all the time; it was just a part of the boy's personality to be loud and obnoxious but this cry was different. It was filled with spite and malice and pain, "HE'S DEAD AND I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!!"</p><p>"Oh my god," Dream mumbled, dropping his sword onto the floor beside him, where it clattered against the rocks.</p><p>"TECHNOBLADE!!"</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>"You blew him up <em>again</em>, after all the progress we'd made to overcome his fear of you, you do it a-fucking-gain."</p><p>That was right. Techno had taken the extra time and effort to avoid Tubbo, keeping his distance from the boy to give him more space to heal. He'd fucked him up pretty badly, at the festival, but that child was nothing if not strong willed, getting back onto his feet in no time at all to the point that he was more than happy to wield fireworks of his own, humming to himself as he worked by Techo's side on the potato farm.</p><p>He never thanked him for making it automated.</p><p>"-In the exact same place with the exact same weapon. Are you proud?! Get everything you'd ever wanted?! But it's fine, I guess, cause<em> 'he'll always just forgive me and move on from his intense trauma'</em>, well guess what, Blade?! No more second chances now! No more redemption, cause he's fucking DEAD!"</p><p>The gravity of the situation started to hit him. He'd killed people before, sure, but this was different. This was a child.</p><p>Oh god.</p><p>"And Wilbur," the brunet tensed under the newly found attention, "Are you happier?"</p><p>Tommy sounded broken and tired, his voice more of a growl than anything else, hoarse form screaming.</p><p>"Is this everything you wished for? To destroy what we spent years building and growing? The land you founded? Do you believe that you are so fucking self important that you get to decide the fate of the rest of this fucking country?! Who- who do you THINK YOU ARE?!"</p><p>Tommy's voice cracked, finally tearing itself in after screaming and crying. He sounded so broken, so filled with anguish and hatred.</p><p>"I hope it was worth it," Techno looked dead into Tommy's eyes, hoping to see anything, anything left of the boy he once knew, but instead of finding bright fiery blue, he was met with mundane grey.</p><p>"I hope you burn in Hell... don't ever try to speak to me again. As far as the world is concerned, I don't know you."</p><p>That hurt. He hated to admit it, but it was true. It hurt so fucking much to hear it from the boy himself, the boy who'd nip at his heals and get on his nerves, playing and fighting and yelling, begging to be trained under the blood god himself, to which Techno would scoff and say no with pride. He'd never realised how much the boy had integrated himself into his life until he collapsed from his wounds, falling into Philza's arms, but not before mumbling a quiet, almost un-hearable, "I guess I never did."</p><p>The world was left in silence. In the distance, a female voice cried out in agonising grief, the only thing holding her up was another man with glowing white eyes, who looked similarly distraught.</p><p>"You... you killed Tubbo," Wilbur stared at nothing, realisation slowly seeping into his features.</p><p>"And you killed L'manberg," Technoblade said deadpan despite how his chest twisted and ached.</p><p>Phil looked up across the crater, eyes filled with a burning hatred that they had never seen in their father before, as he snarled, pulling Tommy's body closer to his chest.</p><p>"I'm going to give you boys the count of 20 before I come after you. If you're not gone from Manberg by then, I'll kill you myself."</p><p>Someone opened their mouth, as if to argue that the man couldn't possibly kill the blood god, before the flaps on Phil's back opened, revealing a pair of long, grey wings that curved protectively around the boy in his arms. The world was silent before Techno came to his senses and pulled Wilbur away by the sleeve. Around them, other people drew their blades, some looking completely blank, numb and cold while others looked like they would tear the world apart, tears streaming down their faces. He may have been the blood god, but he couldn't win a 2v15 with a man who has no armour or weapons to his name.</p><p>With a heavy heart and bloody hands, they ran. Behind them, they heard Philza release a cry of pure anguish and grief.</p><p>What had they done?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Gone but never forgotten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had taken over three months to rebuild L'manberg.</p><p>The task was gruelling and large but Philza was nothing if not persistent. He'd managed to build bigger projects in smaller spaces of time, all by himself, with only to resourced he'd collected all on his own. With 10-15 spare pairs of hands, and a few new faces to add to the mix, the progress was coming along better than anyone had hoped. They'd built boardwalks across the crater, houses were placed on stilts as to save space by growing farms underneath them and by the two month mark at least three fifths of the SMP had places to live and resources to spare.</p><p>The only thing holding them back was the motivation. </p><p>Three people had died on the day of the war, each of them mourned and grieved over individually. Schlatt, Tubbo and Skeppy, the latter of whom was found buried underneath the rubble of a building, killed on impact.</p><p>The funeral was modest and small, respectfully quiet other than Quackity screaming his lungs out about how he was glad Schlatt was finally dead and gone, and BadBoyHalo having to storm out and leave halfway through, slamming the doors behind him. Many people spoke, retelling stories and letting out bursts of laughter that sounded more like sobs, but Phil tuned most of it out, staring at the small, teen sized coffin with regret. His own speech was a blur, he was pretty sure someone had to pull him back to his seat after he started crying on stage. A fellow SMP member, Phil remembered his name as Purpled, talked about how Tubbo was too young to die, how they were only the same age and glared daggers at Dream and his friends the whole while, promising that he would never let anything of the like happen on the server again, and if anyone tried, it would be over his dead body.</p><p>It was an obvious threat, but no one protested.</p><p>The grieving period was long. No one was motivated to work or to build, preferring to stay inside and mourn. Phil had to, essentially singlehandedly, rally the entire SMP into action, saying that they couldn't continue to live in tents, that they had to start working to rebuild a land that Tubbo would be proud of. Slowly but surely, people began to go mining again, began to go out into the woods with axes and come back with stacks of wood to use. Eventually, everyone was working at a steady pace. Niki, the angel, gave out bread to the survivors, the only fee being two wood logs for each loaf. Her entire stock of wheat was gone by week two, but with the motivation that she'd given the people, a new wheat farm had been built, pooling it's resources back into her bakery.</p><p>Tommy didn't speak a word for days, barely taking care of himself despite how others tried to help him. He never left his bed if no one came looking for him, once or twice, Phil had to force feed him to prevent him from starving, he'd spend most of his days staring into a corner, mind wandering off into a different place. If Tommy even heard Techno or Wilbur's names, he would freeze like a deer in headlights, eyes glazing over and mouth parting. It was usually followed by someone having to pull him out of a panic attack.</p><p>The first time he'd spoken after the war was when he woke up screaming and crying, muttering apology after apology into Phil's chest as he held him tightly in his arms, wings wrapped around the both of them throughout the night. It broke Phil's heart to see the boy so broken and empty, all childish hope lost on the day he lost his home, lost his family, lost everything.</p><p>He could see the signs from a mile away, how some of the clothes from Tommy's wardrobe had gone missing, how he'd started scribbling little notes down with messy handwriting, how he'd look out into the distance with calculating eyes and asked to borrow maps of the neighbouring lands.</p><p>He was planning to run away.</p><p>And on that faithful night, Phil looked out of his window to see a figure dash out from Tommy's makeshift camp tent, robed in camouflage green and holding a gleaming sword, Phil knew he'd failed.</p><p>He'd lost all four of his sons in the span of a week.</p><p>He arrived with flowers, white lilies and carnations, ignoring people's glances as he walked. They all knew where he was going, so kept silent and moved out of his way, pity filling their eyes. Smooth stone, rounded at the edges, stuck up from the ground, the grass beginning to grow around it with small wild flowers springing up from the dirt, the only thing bright and colourful about the gloom of the graveyard. There were other, nearby headstones, one with freshly picked flowers decorating it and the other lopsided, where someone had tried to kick it over in anger. He sighed as he pulled the wilting roses from their place in the vase and replaced them, gently rearranging the new flowers to look nice, the same as he did every week since Tommy'd left. He didn't want Tubbo's grave to get lonely, after all.</p><p>"Hey Tubbo," he greeted, settling onto his knees and folding his wings onto his back, a small content smile on his face, "I thought you'd like some different flowers for a change, might brighten this place up, eh?"</p><p>No answer.</p><p>"You'll be happy to know that L'manberg's rebuilding is going great, everyone's really working hard to get it completed. I'll tell ya, it already feels like a home. You'd really like it."</p><p>No answer.</p><p>"No sign of Tommy, sadly. I know, I know. I promised I'd get him to visit but he left before I could ask him... I- I don't know if he'll come back, Tubbo."</p><p>No answer.</p><p>"I just... I wish I'd gotten here sooner. I wish I could have helped you. If I'd just flown a bit faster then I might have made it in time to stop him. Maybe I could have talked him down, you know?"</p><p>No answer.</p><p>"...I used to have three sons. Now look at me," Phil felt tears pool in his eyes as he scoffed, "Tommy's gone, Wilbur and Techno haven't been sighted in months and you're-"</p><p>He finally choked on his words, curling up so his head was at his knees as he finally let out a sob of anguish. He had to be brave, he had to be strong for L'manberg, for his son's final legacy, for the people who lived there. While others broke down, they knew they could rely on Phil to pick them back up again, to give them a shoulder to lean and cry on in the low days. He was the pillar of hope, the little beacon of light that kept the cogs turning and the engines pumping. The leader. The saviour. The man who took one look at a burning, crumbling land and tried to fix it with his bare hands.</p><p>"I just... do you remember the championships we used to do? That bingo game that lasted over four hours? It was great right? I don't think I've ever laughed so fucking hard in my life, when you started burning down that village? When we tore down that room? Do you remember, Tubbo?"</p><p>No answer.</p><p>"I wish we could- fuck I just wish we could go back!" he shouted, letting his emotions grip his head, frustration and grief clouding his vision, "I just wish Tommy was still here, I wish I read his letters properly, I wish I had payed more attention to Wilbur's mental state, I wish I never fuelled Techno's bloodlust I wish-" his throat closed up, and tears poured down his face as he spoke to the air, "...If I'd just gotten here faster... then you'd still be here."</p><p>Again, he received no answer.</p><p>He received no answer, even as a brown haired boy screamed, loud and broken. He cried for the man to hear him as he held his face, trying to wipe his tears, while two other figures looked on in silence and pity, watching as the boy's hands travelled through the man's face like he wasn't there at all and as his voice was lost to the wind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have never yelled as much or as loudly in my life as i did during the war stream. when phil joined, i screamed so loudly that my voice died immediately afterwards it was insane. its currently 3 am and i can not sleep because im still so hyped from that stream</p><p>hope you enjoyed my shitting 3am vent fic</p></blockquote></div></div>
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